Aimless in Africa

As I struggle to come up with interesting things to write about in this week's blog post, I am reminded that life here in Mozambique may be different but not necessarily all that exciting, especially after the novelty wears off. Erica and Alycia had a visitor last week who commented, 'I can't imagine living at the pace you guys live at.' Kind of an insult but also kind of just...truth. Our Friday night consisted of eating dinner at the one restaurant in Chimundo and having a beer. I never used to understand when Erica and Alycia complained about going a little stir crazy on the weekends, but I'm beginning to. Tonight we're making masks for tomorrow's Carnival themed party being thrown by another volunteer in the XaiXai area, and watching movie. Oh, the life I've traded.
The exciting development of this week is my canico (reed) fence in the backyard. The guys I hired did a pretty good job, except that after buying 10 bundles of canico and getting ripped off on transportation cost from Chibuto to my house, it turned out that there wasn't enough canico to complete the fence. So guess who had to go buy 5 more bundles and pay for transport again? That would be me. This time, I arranged everything and only paid 250 for transport instead of 500 (funny how that works). Just goes to show, if you want something done right you have to do it yourself. If I knew how to make a canico fence, I'd do it and just know it would be fabulous. And I wouldn't have so inefficiently underestimated the amount of canico either. Apparently the same exact thing happened to Erica and Alycia when they built their canico fence... You'd think that Mozambicans would be experts by now, seeing as houses, latrines, outdoor kitchens, even chicken coops are built with canico.
Speaking of chickens, my neighbor Luisa just came over with a matted wad of feathers and told me my dogs have been eating her baby chickens. I'd deny it but I'm pretty sure it's true, having seen XimaXima gnawing on some feathers earlier in the day. But what does one say in the face of such accusations? I'm sure it's not just MY dogs. There are at least 10 other dogs in the neighborhood who roam free even at night; I'm just the only one who can be held accountable. I told her I planned to keep the dogs in the fence after it's completed, which seemed to satisfy her. She stalked away with the feathers in hand, leaving me musing about how these kind of situations are what really convince me I'm in Africa.
Aside from the anticipation of Kevin's arrival in Mozambique in two weeks, I've been feeling a bit apathetic and under the weather, possibly from not sleeping well. Earlier this week I was getting up at odd hours of the night because of the whining of the dogs, only to find puppy diarrhea on my kitchen floor. Not fun times. I discovered from cleaning up after them that they have worms (hence the diarrhea). I've been giving them medicine and their bowel movements seem more regular and controlled.
The neighbors one street over must have recently invested in a giant speaker system because all day and all night I am inundated with unnecessarily loud bad music coming through my windows. (For example, the only lyrics from one song I hear several times a day: 'If I marry you, would you marry me, my love? My love?' Repeat lyrics over and over) I walked over Monday night to ask them to please turn it down, which they seemed surprised about (I bet no one's ever told them directly that they're making a lot of noise). They turned it down, but barely.
Work at the escolhina is... Tiring, as usual. The arrival of Irma Monica signifies drastic changes for the escolhina- a good thing! Ir. Monica is younger (in comparison to the others) and studied in Portugal, giving her at a more modern mindset. She and I spend the mornings trying to get the kids to walk quietly in two gender separate lines. It sounds simple but it's quite a feat of its own. Like I've said before, waiting and standing in line is just not part of this culture. The kids look around blankly when they are ordered to form a line, then break formation the moment the line starts moving. Ir. Monica is always reminding them, 'Dont put your stomach against the other person's back. This is not the time for hugging! Everyone is to have their own personal space!' Finally, a Mozambican who understands the concept of personal space.
While Ir. Daulisa was the definition of lax, Ir. Monica may just be on the exact other end of the spectrum. I imagine it's difficult for the children to transition from an escolhina where they play all day, to an escolhina where they actually have to participate in activities or suffer the consequences.
What is my role here as a health volunteer? I am still wondering. I would hope that my contribution to Mozambique is more than just teaching one or two kids to cover their mouths when coughing, or to wash their hands after they go to the bathroom. My work is not directly related to HIV/AIDS, although the center is for OVC's. Its affiliation with the Catholic church makes the topic of HIV/AIDS a taboo subject.
I hope eventually to partner with the local hospital to maybe to do some side projects, like giving palestras (mini classes) on nutrition, HIV/AIDS prevention, general health and hygiene, etc. Many PCV's work with secondary school groups like JOMA or REDES, which I am also interested in. The Moz15 Reconnect conference coming up in April means that I have to start thinking about these things, my personal and professional two year goals. Planning that far in advance is always daunting, the question of 'What do I want to accomplish in the long run?' when the immediate answer that comes to mind is 'I have no f-ing idea.'